


"Alice"

by lilac_red



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Additional Characters, Based on "Carmilla", Death, F/F, F/M, Lost - Freeform, Love, M/M, Past, Vampires, present
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilac_red/pseuds/lilac_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“For some nights I slept profoundly; but still every morning I felt the same lassitude, and a languor weighed upon me all day. I felt myself a changed girl. A strange melancholy was stealing over me, a melancholy that I would not have interrupted. Dim thoughts of death began to open, and an idea that I was slowly sinking took gentle, and, somehow, not unwelcome possession of me. If it was sad, the tone of mind which this induced was also sweet. Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it.” </p><p>Strange things have been occurring since the Jones Family agreed to take in a mysterious, beautiful stranger into their home for some time. Children claim to see a hooded figure lurking in their rooms. Women feel drained of their energy and men begin to wind up dead, and not just the poor ones. All classes are being targeted. Worse of all, the Jones' family daughter, Amelia, can't seem to get one good ounce of sleep since the strangers arrival. And its not because the very pretty stranger excites her (in more ways than one). Not at all.</p><p>Based on the story Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Alice"

Dearest Matthieu,

 

To you, I write to explain the inexplicable, irrefutable, and ghastly events that have occurred--depending on the time you read, if ever receive, this letter--many summers ago at my seventeen years and your twenty-seventh. But before I let you dive into this topsy-turvy world written by the words of your once hysterical sister, as you dubbed, suggesting that life is not set on the pages reciting the Lord, his father, and the holy spirit but of fairies and werewolves and, dare I say, leprechauns, though none I have yet seen. We must travel back in time.

Do you remember, when I first had a nightmare at six? My screams woke everyone on the estate. Even the horses whined and stomped theirs hooves on the ground wondering what all the conundrum was. You, father, and Ms. Herdevary, frantic and disheveled in night wear, came into the room. Flocked around the frightened girl I was and showered her with reassurance and affection that all was fine, all was alright and that no bad creatures or spirits would come to harm a good little girl like me if I pray. But, I must confess, I was never scared though you may not believe but you, father, and the miss never bothered to ask, and with good reason seeing as I was not the bravest of the bunch back then. Especially with all those stories you and father enjoyed sharing with your acquaintances.

I was, in fact, sobbing, crying that a dream so beautiful as I had was gone and replaced by something so mortifyingly somber. In my dream, I was resting on the same bed, underneath the same covers, looking over the end of the bed at a hooded silhouette. Womanly it looked, by the slightest curves around the sides and the trails of golden hair hanging from the sides and reaching beyond, I believe her waist. She looked fragile, even to me, and just as horrifying if I think hard but as innocent a child such as I was, and languid from insomnia causing me to ignore all signs of immediate danger, had to call out to her.

"Hello?"

My action made the stranger flinch and begin to retreat.

"No, no, please don't go!" I called, not wanting to scare away a potential friend, "I'm sorry, I scared you. I just wanted to know if you were real and not a dream or a ghost. I don't like ghost. So, If you aren't, you can stay, at least for the night. Papa and my brother may not like that, but it is awfully cold tonight."

I smiled at her, a trusting warm smile, and moved to make this complete stranger room, "You can sleep with me."

She stayed in her spot, un-moving, as far as I could see with her face still covered by a hood. Then I blinked and it was down. In its place was a face none like I had ever looked upon. Small and pretty to compliment the spindles of golden hair almost like our mothers but, I'm obliged to say, better. Skin as clear as father's fine work paper with eyes a pristine peridot that I just couldn't tear my eyes away until she spoke.

"Really?" Came a sheepish question so quiet I almost missed it.

I nodded before falling back onto my bed and waiting, which, to my surprise, did not take a second longer. Already by the side of the bed. Her eyes stared at mine and once again I smiled, patting the spot were she would lay with me. My heart began to quiver at the very thought of the very "pretty person" being in such close proximity.

It almost stopped as soon as she, for some time it would seem, faced me now laying on the bed. Her face in such close distance that I made out, what I thought, were tiny stars along her cheeks and long hair tickling my fingers that I wanted to brush away. She had a tiny mouth, I recall and finally had the time to notice, pink and wet by the way her tongue glided over them.

There was a dark glint in her now tearful eyes as she leaned her lips closer to mine. One soft touch and then it was gone. In her place, as she pulled back was not "her" rather "him." A soft masculinity he had from his choice of white material for his well-fitted suit. A muss of blonde hair was situated on his head and his eyes red and swollen. My attention was fixated on his eyes so similar to the woman of the other dream that I had failed to noticed the thick thread around his neck that I realized after it was too late was a knoose.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed as he took a step back. His life ended with a sickening snap and all I could do was scream.

You must be disgusted by having to hear an atrocious a dream such as I had for it had all the qualified factors of sin. I can just picture your face morphing from utter rage to undoubtable penance, so keep reading, my dear brother, that I am writing to you that it is _not_ your fault. Nor is it hers as _I_ was the one who made all the decisions preceding up to the point that I left our home and name.

Please, keep an open mind as recount _why_ I had made the decisions I made. This is a story that I had wish not to relive to you of all people but must be learnt in order for their to never be another "Alice" incident again.

 


End file.
